


Not the only stranger in this town

by Ischa



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about how Damon's road-trip ends up to be a Lovecraft novel.<br/><i>There is rhyme and reason to his insanity. On most days he even feels sane. The problem with all this might be that he feels, period. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the only stranger in this town

**Title:** Not the only stranger in this town  
 **Pairing:** Damon gen  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** This is about how Damon's road-trip ends up to be a Lovecraft novel.  
 _There is rhyme and reason to his insanity. On most days he even feels sane. The problem with all this might be that he feels, period._  
 **Warning(s):** creepy, violence  
 **Author’s Notes:** Part of the 13 days to Samhain ficathon. Yes, it's The Vampire Diaries fiction...I have no excuse.  
 **Word Count:** 1.434  
 **Beta:** allfaltering  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\--+--  
~1~  
Somewhere between dying (getting shot by his own father – he isn’t sure Stefan knows that he knows that) and now, he lost his sanity. He honestly can’t remember when it happened and maybe it’s still happening. A work in progress, so to speak.  
And maybe it was all because of love, or jealousy – or the fact that he died and lived again just to be a monster. Not that Damon actually thinks of himself as a monster. These never were his words – they always were Stefan’s. And other people’s – mostly when he was about to kill them, rip them apart, and/or drink their blood. It’s really not his fault. It’s in his nature.  
It _is_ his nature.

~+~  
His head falls heavy against the wooden panel of the wall with a soft noise and he closes his eyes. Maybe he should write a book about all this. Seems like the kids are all in favour of vampires nowadays. Misunderstood creatures that they are. Misunderstood my ass, he thinks. They are all predators. Silent and deadly killers.  
At least he doesn’t need to lurk around in the shadows or keep nightly hours. He still does. It’s easier that way. That may have been the only good thing Katherine ever did.

~+~  
There is rhyme and reason to his insanity. On most days he even feels sane. The problem with all this might be that he feels, period. It was so much easier not to feel, but it was also dull. And even if they all say they can just switch it off – it isn’t really true after all. None of them are able to forget their humanity completely. None of them want it either.  
“It’s time to get out of here,” he says to no one, because he’s alone in Stefan’s room. Stefan can deal with the whole Katherine and werewolf and witches mess alone for a while. Half a century should be enough. Damon really doesn’t know why the hell he stayed so long in Mystic Falls anyway.  
Misery seems to follow Stefan wherever he goes and he doesn’t talk about himself for once.

 

~2~  
He steals a car even if he has the money to just buy one – where would be the fun in that? He throws his phone out of the window somewhere in…he has no clue actually. Could be anywhere. It lands in a cornfield – that’s all he knows and it’s enough.  
The car breaks down close to a small town somewhere nowhere three days later. He’s stranded, he has no phone, and no money. Considering he had it worse. After all, he is a vampire - he can kill and mesmerise and charm people. He doesn’t need money or a car or even a phone. He just needs to own a room.  
And man, is he owning a room.

~+~  
Bumtown nowhere is exactly as exciting as you would think it is. The only reason he is still here, and didn’t steal another car to get the hell out and on the road again, is the petite redhead that’s working at the grocery store. He saw her when he walked by on the way to the only bar. He needed a drink pretty badly. But then - he always needs a drink pretty badly.  
Something about her caught his eye and he just can’t let it go.

~+~  
On his second day in town – while he’s staying at someone’s house and waiting for his car to get fixed – he sees her again. She’s sitting outside the graveyard gates, smoking.

“Mind company?” he asks, sitting down beside her without waiting for an answer.

“What if I had said no?”

“Who would have said no to this?” Damon asks, and she gives him a smile and hands over a pack of cigarettes.  
Damon lights one, inhaling deep. Just what he needed.

“I know,” she says, without looking at him. She is staring straight ahead. Damon follows her gaze. An old house, rundown and inhabited. Might have been nice once; not so much anymore.

“You know what?” he asks, belatedly.

“What you need,” she answers.  
He keeps quiet for a few minutes.

“Why are you stalking the house?”

“It’s evil?” she says, amused. He thinks he likes her. Would be a shame to kill her now. “You won’t,” she says.

“I won’t what?” He feels a bit like she’s having a conversation that he’s not really a part of.

“Kill me,” she answers, turning to look at him.

“Just my luck, huh? A witch,” he sighs dramatically and she laughs again.

“There are worse things out there to get you,” she answers.

“Not in my experience,” he says taking another drag of his cigarette. It’s nearly burned down already.

“Right,” she says, flipping the butt on the ground and getting up. She turns to look at him again. “You coming?” she asks.

“What?”

“Are you coming?”

“No.”

“Oh, but I know you are,” she says with a sweet smile.

“I’m not a knight, I’m not going in there to get myself killed,” he answers her, because he’s not a good person. He’s a psychopath on his _good_ days.

“There is something to kill in there and you need to kill something right now,” she says, raising an eyebrow.  
She has a point. He flips his butt next to hers and gets up.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he says with a grin and follows her.

 

~3~  
The inside of the house is dark and smells old and wet, like rotting wood and paper. The girl is the only breathing, living thing for miles and Damon is very aware of it.

“You know that houses aren’t evil, right?”

“You clearly never saw Monster House,” she gives back. He would roll his eyes at her, but it’s so beneath him. “You’re such a liar.”

“Well,” he can’t really argue with that. Can he now?

“Quiet now,” she hisses and looks in his direction. He didn’t hear anything. He follows her up the stairs and into a small room that maybe used to be a nursery if the rest of the rotten wallpaper is any indication. The room gives him the shivers. She just stands there, her head tilted to one side as if she’s listening to something no one else can hear. Maybe she even is.

~+~  
He’s starting to get impatient – never really was the patient type; Katherine would know. – when the whole house begins to shiver and rock. It takes him a few seconds to understand that she’s doing it. He takes a step back and she turns around: her eyes dark and her lips curled into a feral smile.

“Fuck,” he says with feeling, because honestly, he must be off his game so fucking hard to not have seen that one coming (on the other side, who the fuck would?). She laughs and he feels like he’s landed in a Lovecraft novel. Monsters with tentacles included. She is mid-transformation and he knows by instinct that that is the only chance to get to her.  
They are monsters, two supernatural beings in a fight for survival. She laughs, lunges at him. Damon staggers back. The door behind him is solid and unforgiving. Nothing’s rotten enough to give anymore, but the smell’s still there: decay.

“You’re not gonna make it out alive,” she purrs.

“We’ll see, sweetheart,” he bites back and she laughs again, one of her tentacles touching his face. It feels slimy and cold and chills him to his core. He grabs her hand, the tentacle, whatever and tugs, tears it away; she screams. “Thing is, I’m not alive,” he adds and goes for her neck. He bites and tastes something rotten. It’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever tasted and he spits it out and then rips into her neck again and again until she sags in his grip.

~+~  
He feels sick and exhausted when he leaves the house. He wants to burn it down to the ground and maybe the whole town too.  
The sun is warm on his skin and he feels ravenous. He does need to kill something, someone. A _lot_ of someones after this.  
And now that he’s the only monster left in the town, he can.

~end~


End file.
